Chapter 39
Tuesday
An hour earlier . . .
I’m going to die . . .
Terrified, I hold on for dear life.
Carter and I make it to the lake on the far side of the largest olive grove, the horse finally slowing down.
I may have a wardrobe of riding clothes, but nothing about riding a horse feels natural or safe.
Now that we’re here, I take a deep breath to calm my rattled nerves and adjust my helmet that’s lopsided on my head.
Fortunately, I survived, but I don’t think I have it in me to ride back to the chateau unless this horse knows how to walk instead of running like we’re being chased.
My heart still races, but with Carter, I won’t let him see my fear.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, trying to sound casual like I do this every day.
Not sure I’m pulling off my best performance, so I stroke the horse’s mane and look out over the lake.
The sun rises high enough to reflect off the thin layer of ice that’s formed, a soft shine in my eyes.
Adjusting on his saddle, he says, “You always loved riding so much.”
“Guess it’s been a while because I was a bit nervous.” Bit being a huge understatement.
“No need to be nervous,” he says. “Just like riding a bike, right?”
Not at all, but I reply, “I suppose.” I don’t know how long I can keep up the pretense.
I can’t believe I agreed to this. I could have made a million excuses for not riding this morning.
This was nothing more than my pride getting in the way.
Like somehow, I’m proving to him that I can’t be pushed around.
I want this to be over and to be back in bed with Loch.
He pulls a thermos from a leather pouch and fills the lid with piping-hot coffee. The steam billows from the top, reminding me how cold I am and causing me to shiver in response. Leaning over from atop his horse, he hands it to me. “Your jaw is chattering. This should warm you up.”
He almost sounds caring. Almost. I don’t know what to believe anymore.
He’s completely changed now that we broke it off.
Was that all he was waiting for? His freedom from me .
. . from Céline? Anger isn’t shaping his features this morning.
Quite the opposite, in fact. There’s an air of lightness surrounding him.
He must feel the same relief I do. Thank God.
“Thanks.” I take a sip of coffee, and then to keep us moving in the right direction of our relationship—the end—I ask, “Did you write a statement?”
After drinking from the thermos, he shakes his head. “I fell asleep. Hazard of international travel.”
“I’m feeling jet-lagged myself.” I leave out the part about Loch keeping me up and active half the night. Instead, I add, “I don’t think a statement is necessary.”
He takes another drink and then looks beyond the lake. A mixture of emotions flickers through his expression when he turns to look at me. The only two I pick up on are the most familiar on him—anger and irritation. “Were you ever going to tell me you have amnesia?”
My heart stops with a thud in my chest, my wrist weakening and the coffee spilling to the ground. Run . . . everything in me chooses flight over fight. But I may have missed my chance.
The horse shifts under me as it tries to find solid ground on the uneven shoreline.
His eyes darken as something more callous sets in, a vacancy of the emotions he frequents. Stone cold, he says, “You don’t ride anymore, Céline. Not after falling . . .” He points at the far side of the lake. “Right over there three years back. It’s too bad you only suffered a broken arm.”
“And why is that?” Do I want the answer to that? Good or bad, yes, I do. I need him to say the words that have been on the tip of his tongue since I returned.
Stroking his horse’s neck, he grins in his deviousness.
When his gaze slides to me, he says, “You’re wild and unpredictable.
You ran when I thought you’d stay. Now you claim to have fallen in love with some guy you barely know when you couldn’t manage to love me.
You’re mouthy when you should keep it shut.
The worst part is you still think you have a say. ”
I glance back toward the chateau. It’s too far to get there on foot when he’d be on my heels hunting me down.
I scramble to grab my phone from my bag.
When I retrieve it to call Loch, it rings, startling me and causing it to loosen in my hands.
My only opportunity to call for help slips through my fingers.
Directing the reins, he sidles his horse closer.
The crush of my phone under his hooves is heard, and my heart sinks.
The cracking glass elicits a neigh from my horse, who starts stomping his hooves in protest. My fear can probably be sensed a mile away. If only Loch could also sense it. I hold the pommel of the saddle as the wind picks up, adding to an already freezing morning.
I won’t confirm anything for him. “What if I leave?”
He chuckles. “When I told you I tried to give you a way out, I meant it. When I said I loved you, I meant it. Maybe it’s not the kind of love that plays out in books or movies, but our marriage would have been good enough.
Our union would have given us the world. Now . . .” His eyes deviate from me.
“Now what?”
When he redirects his gaze to me, he adds, “Now I have to worry about myself and do what’s best for me.”
“Seems you were doing that all along.”
“You never learn, do you? Sometimes it’s just better to keep your mouth shut.” He pulls a crop from the other side of his horse and whacks the back of mine. The horse rears up as gravity pulls me off the back.
I scream, unable to hold on, and land on my backside, my head bouncing off the ground. Roaring that softens as distance is put between the horse and me.
Purgatory and hell.
That’s where I remain—eyes closed, unable to move my body, my mind drifting off to sleep. So tired . . .
The ground rumbles under me as the stomping of footsteps circle my body. The rough tips of unfamiliar fingers scratch the skin of my face as a pulsing breath scented with acid invades my nostrils. “There are only two ways out of this, Céline. You marry me, or you need to disappear for good.”
Softness brushes over my cheeks, providing comfort from the cold stripping me of heat. His hand presses over my mouth, and I realize the fabric isn’t meant to comfort me but to suffocate me.
I gasp for breath, my eyes going wide as I grapple to save myself. I yank his wrist away and turn my head to the side, sucking in air as fast as I can, hoping it reaches my lungs.
He stands, pressing his boot into my stomach. It’s not enough to cut off my breath yet, so I use all my leftover energy to scream as loud as I can. I grab his leg to topple him, but he’s too heavy.
Giving me a reprieve, he bends beside me on one knee, resting forward and amused as if my fear is for his entertainment.
“You think you can outsmart me? I knew you were lying the minute you arrived in Rhode Island. Why would you knock on your own door? Your monogrammed luggage was nowhere in sight. But you know what the real tell was?” He scoffs, glancing around as if there are witnesses to look out for. “Lochlan Westcott.”
Loch.
My heart beats back to life as I choose to stare up at the sky over the man who wants to murder me. The slightest move has my back twinging in pain. I’m not broken, but I won’t be able to escape. I also won’t let him win.
I won’t give him a sound or an ache.
Clouds have burned away, but his face blocks the blue sky I’d rather see. My varied thoughts jumping from my body to my surroundings, from Loch to Carter and then to my fate, I say, “He saved me.”
“You’ve always been so unpredictable, Céline, but in New York, I could finally narrow down your routine to a ten-minute window. Enough time for me to do what I had to do.”
“To do what?”
“Unfortunately,” he says as if we have all the time in the world. “He was the one thing I couldn’t predict. Nobody expects a hero these days.”
My eyes veer to meet his. “You tried to have me killed?”
Expecting the ice-cold version that greeted me upon my return, that harsh reality isn’t there.
Sympathy. Kindness . . . the softer side is unexpected and not right as he tries to hold on to something we once had.
This side of him scares me more. “No.” He leans in and whispers, “I didn’t try.
I paid to have you killed. The idiot just couldn’t finish the job. ”
I was supposed to die that day . . . on a dirty street in the middle of the city, left to die as if nobody would care.
Someone did.
Loch.
He cared about me before he even knew me. I hold that close as a shield to protect me. Carter doesn’t realize I’m not the same person who left him at the altar. I’m not even the same person who showed back up in Rhode Island. I’m more, both Céline and Tuesday.
And I now remember everything . . .
The wedding.
The promise he broke when I saw him fucking a bridesmaid . . . a cousin of mine.
The new will that was sent over to sign as if I wouldn’t read the fine print.
I remember the threats . . .
An implication of my parents’ wrongdoing.
The deal that was struck—marriage to a man I detest.
Going to New York to get help to save them.
It’s all coming back and clearer than ever before.
He will not win. He doesn’t realize who I’ve become, and I refuse to go down without a fight.
I think about moving, but I hit my head too hard to take that risk. I’d never be able to outrun him, so I use a different tactic. “The millions you’ve embezzled, the extortion to marry you, and now I’ll add attempted murder to the list.”
His features harden as his eyes narrow. “I always did admire your spunk. The thing is . . .” He stands over me, looking down. “You’re not making it out of here. At least not alive.”
Walking the perimeter, he finds a large rock at the base of a post near an olive tree. Carrying it to the lake, he smashes through the layer of ice. Tears fill my eyes as I start to push up. I’ll never get away, but I’ll fight trying.
Kicking my leg behind me, I force myself up, but I’m grabbed from behind and dragged screaming toward the water. He says, “They won’t find anything until spring . . . whatever remains, that is.”
My last move to make, the only chance I have to save myself. I kick and swing, but nothing lands, but I manage enough force to get the words out, “It’s locked in a safe.”
He stops on the edge of the lake. “What is?” When I don’t reply, he drops, bending down to get in my face, and shouts, “What is, Céline?”
“Everything you’ve done.”
We stare at each other, neither blinking, though my lids burn in agony. He finally looks away, but I can tell his mind is spinning, plotting by his narrowed eyes. I take the second to soothe my eyes by closing them. When I open them again, he turns back to me, and says, “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because either way, you’re fucked. You just have to decide whether you want murder added to the charges.”
“Fuck!” he shouts louder, kicking the dirt as he walks away. It coats my lips and sprays my eyes before I can close them.
I’m grabbed like a rag doll and shaken. My brain rattles in my head, intensifying the ache. “Tell me where the safe is.”
I’m dropped, left on the ground, and I can’t help but notice that the sky belies the situation I’m in. Beauty against brutality. “Doesn’t matter.” I manage a grin, but even that causes pain, like every breath I take. “Also, there’s another copy out there for safekeeping.”
I laugh, but it hurts, so I roll my head to the side and watch as he mounts his horse again. I’m not left with a slurry of threats or shaken until I release the location of the safe.
I’m just left.
Trying to bide my time while tears roll down my cheeks, my chest aches and my heart beats hard against my ribs as if it won’t settle until we’re safe in Loch’s arms again. The emptiness of being left to writhe in pain is no less daunting to overcome.
Stay awake.
I hadn’t noticed the leaves of the olive trees until now. Lifting my hand, I admire the ring wrapping around my finger—the branches, the leaves, the trees in the grove are one and the same.
The ring more than spoke to me that day in Tiffany’s.
It beckoned my memories. I rest my hand on my chest and just breathe.
I won’t give in, but the weight of my lids causes my eyes to close.
I open them again, but they’re heavier this time, and it’s harder to focus on the sky and trees, the birds that fly in formation in the distance.
The sound of tires.
The name I chose as my own is called out like a prayer.
“Tuesday.” Hands cup my face while my lips are kissed with breath to bring me back to life.
I open my eyes to find the comfort of home staring back at me. If it’s wrong to smile, kill me now because there’s no resisting this man. I reach up, caressing his face like Loch caresses mine, and whisper, “Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?”
He chuckles, but it’s riddled with relief. Kissing me, he gently runs his hand under my head. “I was about to ask the same thing.”
“I’ll never get enough of you. So if I have to play the damsel in distress for my hero to save me, I’ll do it.”
His laughter rips through him, but I see the way his eyes well with water. I taste the tear that falls in my mouth and reach to wipe the next one away. “I was afraid you wouldn’t remember me.”
“You’re the only one I want to remember.”
He dips his head to my shoulder and kisses my neck and that ticklish spot below my ear. The sirens fail to drown him out when he whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” My lids grow heavy as the embers of my strength begin to burn out.
“Stay with me, baby. Everything is going to be okay.”
The sound of Allison telling the paramedics where we are has me lifting my lids. I’m greeted by the love of my life. I whisper, “I could never leave you, babe.”
I’m lifted onto a stretcher and placed in the back of an ambulance. Loch sits next to me, holding my hand. “I’m having déjà vu.”
“Can we make this the last time?”
His smile—though struggling through his worries—still brings one to my face.
“Deal.” As the ambulance travels to the hospital, I give his hand a little squeeze.
And when I have his full attention—gorgeous browns, lips that I adore kissing, and his love burning bright in his eyes—I say, “I remember . . .”
“You remember what?”
“Everything.”